


Men's Corsetry

by Medeafic



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Bondage, Corsetry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-28
Updated: 2011-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:07:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medeafic/pseuds/Medeafic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris discovers that he enjoys corsets, and bondage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Men's Corsetry

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Корсеты для настоящих мужчин (Men's Corsetry)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/597155) by [littledoctor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledoctor/pseuds/littledoctor)



> This was originally written anonymously for the Pinto kink meme on LJ. I've tidied it up a little and toned down some (not all) of the OTT style. It's unbeta'd, so all mistakes are entirely my own.

“You are such a child, Christopher.” Zach couldn’t sound any more disdainful, but Chris refuses to stop his snickering.

“Come on, man, it’s fine for drag queens, but the average male does  _not_  want to be wearing a corset.” The men of the new alien race aren’t just stuck with skirts this time, but with tightly-bound corsetry as well. Chris and Zach, getting fitted for their own uniforms, are inspecting the costumes while Chris’s hems are taken up. Chris finds the corsets hilarious. Zach, for some reason, doesn’t.

“If your masculinity is so delicate as to be challenged by a simple piece of  _clothing_ , you might want to ignore fashion for the next fifty years or so. Everything comes back into style eventually. Although,” and here Zach gives Chris’s pile of clothes on the chair a once-over with a raised eyebrow, “it looks like you’re already comfortable ignoring fashion.”

“Fuck you, Quinto.” He hates to admit it, but his pride is stung. There’s nothing wrong with his dress-sense! “I get fashion lay-outs all the time. I have a deal with RRL, for Christ’s sake.”

“Yeah, where  _they_  dress  _you_.”

“Like a striped hoodie and a headband is so fashion-forward?” He’s scored. Zach flushes, annoyed.

“You know, for someone who made a magazine cover with the giant headline ‘Lose Your Gut’, you’re very quick to dismiss slimming undergarments.”

Chris splutters. “That wasn’t  _my_  headline for that story, you – you dandified fop!”

Zach’s mouth quirks in an involuntary smile, but he wipes it off and says, “I think you’ll find that’s a tautology, Christopher.” Obviously he thinks it’s the perfect exit-line, because he nips out of costuming in his new Science Blues before Chris can retort.

“He’s just fixated because he ate too many donuts during rehearsals this morning,” Chris snaps at the costumier, who pretends not to hear. “God forbid he have an ounce of fat showing.”

His own tummy is just fine, Chris insists to himself. It’s a six-pack of awesomeness, and Zach is  _just jealous_.

Still, Chris can’t help noticing, as filming starts, that the alien dudes do tend to look toned rather than hour-glass in their corsets. Zach sees him staring sometimes and gives a very un-Spock smirk when he does. Chris, because he is the Captain in name if not in fact, does not lower himself to that level. Not on-set, anyway. If Zach finds all his soy milk missing from his trailer fridge on his smirking days, well, that’s his own fault for being a supercilious dick.

One night they have an early mark, and Karl suggests getting hammered at the local watering hole. Several hours later, Chris and Zach are the only ones left, and the argument starts up again.

“Victorian men’s corsets. Very stylish, very flattering. You can’t get a silhouette like that without making some sacrifices.”

“Like  _breathing_? Thanks, but no thanks. And I don’t want a silhouette like that. I melt panties with my shape, man. You can’t tell me I don’t.”

“Defining your torso more would take away attention from your chicken legs,” Zach tells him, as though he's being helpful.

“You’re a goddamn piece of work, Zach.” But Chris can’t help laughing. “If you’re so in love with corsets why don’t  _you_  wear one?”

“I don’t have the shape for it,” Zach says mournfully. “I would totally go for it if I could get away with it, but I have these endless, perfectly-shaped legs, you see. Couldn’t detract from them even if I tried. No, really. It’s a curse.”

“Total bullshit.”

“Plus, you  _can_  breathe in them. You don’t need to torture yourself – it should feel natural. Correct your posture.”

“Okay, Zach.” Chris is feeling foolish, risky. He’s up for a bet. “If you’re willing to get me an  _haute couture_  men’s corset, pay for it out of your own pocket – and we’re talking high-class, one-of-a-kind, designed-for-me fashion – I’ll try it. Just to tell you how wrong you are and shut you up.”

“What are your measurements?”

“Thirty-two in the waist.”

Zach raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe thirty-four. And fuck you. I’m built at the moment; it’s all muscle.”

“Uh huh. How long is your torso?”

“I don’t know, man. Who knows that stuff about themselves?”

“I do.”

Of course he does. “Well, I don’t.”

“Never mind, I’ll ask wardrobe. They’ll have your measurements.”

“Sure, Zach, whatever.”

And Chris doesn’t think any more about it, until Zach shows up to set one day with a mysterious package and an evil smile.

“Oh, I  _know_  you don’t think I’m wearing that.” Chris folds his arms and glares, but Zach is unmoved.

“You said you would. And I kept up my end of the bargain; this is a one-of-a-kind, made by a fantastic designer, to your measurements, and it cost me a small fucking fortune, so you’re going to wear it.”

They’re standing in wardrobe again, changing for the day’s shoot, mercifully alone. Chris eyes the corset, still folded in its box. It’s nothing like he expected. He thought it would be all flowery satin and delicate lacings and feminine frippery, but this isn’t like that at all. It’s a neutral slate color with darker stripes, made from some kind of linen or cotton. The lacings are practical black nylon strings, not silky ribbons. On the inside there’s suede lining, and Chris is surprised by his sudden, intense desire to feel it against his skin.

All in all, it doesn’t look like a  _corset_. It looks like an enlarged cummerbund, or a strange sort of waistcoat. Chris doesn’t mind wearing those. And this is really –  _really_  – kind of stylish. Chris peeks at the label, sewn discreetly into the lining. Figures. One of Zach’s fashion buddies. Chris probably should have thought things through more carefully before he opened his mouth.

But it just looks so…comfortable.

“I’ll put it on after work, walk around for a bit, and tell you how wrong you are,” he offers, but Zach shakes his head.

“No way; you have to wear it for a while, make sure you really get the feel of it. Take off your shirt.”

Chris is half-undressed before he even wonders why he’s obeying, but one glance at Zach and his intense face has him stripping off even faster. It’s not like he’s never been aware of Zach as an attractive individual, and Chris has always thought of himself as heteroflexible. Also, there was that one drunken night when he thinks he had his tongue down Zach’s throat, although the memory is pretty hazy. (He’s sworn off Opal Nero ever since.) And he’s not exactly unacquainted with sucking dick.

In fact, his fantasy life means that he’s not completely unacquainted with sucking  _Zach’s_  dick, but in those imaginings, Chris is always the initiator; he’s the one ordering Zach around.  But here and now, Chris feels a frisson of excitement at simply doing what he’s told. Zach’s demeanor is calm and hasn’t exactly tipped over from competitive-friendship into…whatever else there might be, but still. It’s not unsexy.

Chris becomes very aware of his naked chest when Zach doesn’t immediately hand over the corset. His dark gaze is traversing Chris’s torso, and Chris feels his nipples harden infinitesimally when Zach looks at them.

“You gonna give it to me, or what?” Chris’s voice is rough, husky, and that probably wasn’t the best choice of words.

“You can’t put it on yourself. I need to lace you into it.”

Chris has sudden visions of  _Gone With the Wind_  and frowns.

“For Christ’s sake, just turn around,” Zach says, exasperated now, and Chris gives a loud, expressive sigh, but turns around. “Okay, now hold up your arms. Straight up. This needs to go over your head.”

Chris tries not to make it obvious that he’s holding his breath as Zach’s arms wind around his body. He can smell Zach’s familiar scent, feel the heat of his body warming his skin, the ghost of his breath tickling his ear. Zach slides the corset down to his waist.

The corset is as soft as it looked. Zach’s fingers are sure and certain as they position the garment in the right place, smoothing it carefully across Chris’s belly. “You don’t have to suck it in,” he says in Chris’s ear, amused.

“I’m not!”

“Sure you are. Breathe out. Come on, Pine, I was only kidding. You’re in great shape. I just want to see you in this to know what it looks like, not because you  _need_  it.”

“Honeyed words,” Chris mutters darkly, but he relaxes his stomach muscles. Zach presses up against his back, and Chris straightens his shoulders involuntarily. His heart is speeding up and the resulting blood flow is heading straight to his cock. He shifts uneasily, and feels Zach’s crotch brushing up against his ass. There’s not enough contact to know whether this whole thing is having the same effect on Zach, but Chris could swear he’s breathing faster.

Once Zach has the corset lined up where he wants it, he pulls the laces tighter, keeping it in place. “I’m going to lace you up, now. Tell me if it gets uncomfortable. Or if you can’t breathe.” Chris can feel Zach tugging, and the vibrations of the laces through the holes is making his cock twitch.

Chris feels weird.  _Good_  weird, which just makes it weirder. He never expected to like this constricted feeling around his middle. It shouldn’t feel so pleasant. It’s supposed to be annoying and uncomfortable and  _stupid_.

But it’s like a close hug from the most supple arms in the world, and it bends with him when he twists experimentally. The corset ends a few inches below his nipples, and catching sight of it in the mirror, it looks almost obscene.

“See? Not so bad, right?”

Chris can’t answer. Zach’s lips are so close that he can feel them moving against his neck. All he can focus on are Zach’s fingers resting just above the line of the corset, the binding sensation, and the semi he’s now sporting. In the mirror, Zach’s dark hair and pale face are framed beyond his own golden hair and shoulder. It’s a beautiful contrast. And damn if the corset doesn’t give him a svelte new shape, like an exaggerated perspective of the male figure. The cut of it is cinching in his waist but flows smoothly into his hips. It’s not feminine in the slightest.

Okay. Chris is impressed.

“Put on your clothes over it. Wear it today and see what you think.”

“But the continuity—”

“It’ll be fine. New scenes today. Just try it.”

“They’ll see it. Underneath. Visible corset lines, man, I’m sure that’s a no-no.”

“Just try it.”

“You know that whole thing about Shatner wearing a girdle is a myth, right?”

“Just. Try. It.”

Chris doesn’t know why, but he gives in. Once he pulls on his Command Gold, the corset might as well not be on him at all. Zach must have paid a fortune for this kind of craftsmanship, and for some reason, that thought gives him goose bumps.

If Zach were to ask right now how he felt, he would have to say – secure.

Besides, Zach was right about the benefits to his posture. Once he gets on set, people seem to notice a change in his performance. “You’re extra-captainy today, Captain,” John tells him, slapping his shoulder, and JJ compliments him on how well he’s channeling authority. The corset is making him throw back his shoulders more and arch his back a little, and…it still feels good.

It’s a long day, and he only remembers about the corset when he’s half-way to wardrobe to undress. Damn it. He’ll have to change in his trailer, or someone might see.

He strips to his briefs and the corset in his trailer and then gets so caught up staring at himself in the mirror that he doesn’t hear Zach enter, and jumps about a mile.

“Jesus, man! You scared the shit out of me.”

Zach grins. “Should I lead you to the fainting couch?”

Chris just rolls his eyes. Actually, it’s a good thing Zach’s here. He needs some help getting this thing off. Zach tied the knots way too tight this morning. “Can you untie me, please?”

Zach looks a little regretful as he regards Chris in the mirror. “It really does look good on you.”

“Yeah. It does. But then, I  _am_  a fine piece of ass.”

“No complaints here, milady.”

“Will you cut that out?”

Zach just laughs, but begins untying the laces. “So? What’s the verdict?”

“Guys can rock a corset.” He hates to admit when Zach’s right, but, well, Zach’s  _right_. “And breathe in them, too.”

“Will you wear it again tomorrow?”

The corset is loose now, and Chris feels a vague sense of regret as Zach slides it up over his head. He’s not standing close like he did this morning, and for a second, Chris wishes he would.

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, you paid for it and everything…I should get some wear out of it.” It’s possibly the most ridiculous excuse since the Virgin Mary’s _God did it_ , but Zach doesn’t seem to mind.

He takes a step closer and – are those his  _fingers_  trailing up Chris’s back right now? Chris gulps. Zach says, “Maybe tomorrow we can lace it a little tighter.”

Chris doesn’t trust himself not to squeak right now, so he just nods. And Zach – Zach smiles.

~

So it goes on, for a week; they find a few moments to themselves so that Zach can lace Chris into the corset in the morning and unlace him at the end of the day, and somehow they keep it a secret from wardrobe and from everyone else. As the days pass, the barrier between them drops. By day three Zach is standing close enough after lacing the corset that Chris can feel his hard-on against the back of a thigh. By day six, Zach is unashamedly rubbing his crotch against Chris’s ass. And Chris presses back into it, has to fight not to adjust his own cock, hard and clearly visible in his boxer briefs.

They’re breaking for a one-day weekend and Zach says he’s going to take the corset to be cleaned. Chris bites back a protest. He’s come to relish the feeling of it, so snug and confining, a little tighter each day, just a few millimeters, but noticeable to him at least.

“It needs to be looked after, maintained,” Zach tells him. “Or else it won’t last.”

It shouldn’t make Chris giddy to think of wearing it for months, a secret just between them. But it does. Over the weekend he wraps himself tightly in his blanket at night in bed, and on the sofa too while he watches TV or reads. He feels like a mummy, but it’s comforting. He likes the all-over constriction. Still – he misses the corset.

On Monday morning, they’re all running behind time and the wardrobe room is a bustle of people. Chris tries to catch Zach’s eye so he can signal that they go back to his trailer to put it on, but Zach seems to be avoiding his gaze. So Chris has to go without, and the first chance he gets, he pulls Zach aside for a whisper-conference.

“Don’t you want to do it anymore?”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Oh, my God! They didn’t destroy it at the drycleaners, did they?”

Zach starts laughing. “No. Actually…actually, I had another one made.”

“Oh!” That’s good news. Sort of. “Well – where is it?”

Zach shrugs. “My place. I thought maybe you could come over and…”

And what? Chris isn’t sure if he should ask. “I don’t know,” Chris blurts out. “Is that weird?”

Zach closes down. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to weird you out.” He walks off quickly and Chris is left both corsetless and feeling like he’s crashed through a delicate balance and ruined everything.

So he drops around to Zach’s that night, unannounced, and knocks on the door. He can hear Noah barking on the other side of the door, but at a muffled order from Zach, Noah quiets immediately.

“Hi!” Chris says when he opens the door. He’s pasted on his brightest smile.

“Hello.” Zach is cautious. Noah is standing behind him, wagging his tail, and Chris kneels down to greet him.

“Hey, buddy! How you doing? Is your owner being nice to you?”

“What are you doing here?”

Chris looks up at him, and Noah looks up at the same time. “Well…you invited me.”

Zach tries to stay cool, but apparently two sets of pleading eyes are too much for him. “Yeah, I guess I did. Come in.”

Noah wags his tail hard enough for Chris as well as they make their way through the living room to the kitchen and Zach sits down again to his late dinner. Chris already inhaled a burrito before he came over. Zach’s meal looks a lot more healthy but a lot less tasty.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Chris says, but he sits down easily opposite Zach and watches him eat. Noah is more interested in butting his head up under Chris’s hand for pseudo-pats than in potential dropped scraps from Zach’s plate. Chris doesn’t blame him.

“It’s cool,” Zach says around a mouthful.

“I didn’t mean to be a dick earlier, either.”

Zach pushes something multicolored and mushy around his plate and doesn’t reply.

Chris tries again. “It’s not weird. I mean – you know I like it. So you were just doing me a favor, right? Getting me a new…thingy.” As much as Chris likes the feeling of the corset, he’s not  _entirely_  comfortable with the word yet. And ‘girdle’ is even worse.

“Doing you a favor?”

Maybe he’s making things worse. “I just meant it’s not weird. I shouldn’t have said that before.”

“I’m not just doing you a favor, Pine.” Zach takes his plate to the countertop and sets it next to the sink.

 _Don’t say that_ , Chris wants to say.  _I’m giving you an out. I’m smoothing things over_. But he keeps quiet, pets Noah.

But then Zach turns around and leans against the bench. “You want to see the new one?”

“It’s why I came around.”

Zach puts Noah in the laundry room before he leads Chris to the bedroom. Chris is nervous. He’s never really been in Zach’s bedroom before; they hang out in the lounge or in the yard or at the kitchen table.

On Zach’s bed Chris’s usual corset is lying next to a large box. Chris takes up the corset without thinking, and folds his arm across it as though hugging it to himself.

“Grabby.” But Zach smiles.

“Is the other one in there?”

“Yeah.” Zach starts to lift up the lid, and then drops it again. “It’s not like that one,” he warns, waving a hand at the corset in Chris’s arms.

“Okay.”

“So don’t freak out.”

“This build-up is not doing anything to help, Zach.”

Zach gives a little sigh and lifts the lid. Chris comes a step closer to look into the box. The corset inside is dark, matte black, and after a second Chris realizes it’s made from leather.

“Wow.”

“Wow good, or wow bad?”

Chris puts down the gray corset on the bed again carefully, and then reaches for the new one. It’s as soft as velvet under his fingers, the leather beautifully pliant. When he carefully lifts it out he sees it’s fully lined, again, in suede.

It’s the same style, but the leather makes it look…hardcore.

And there are rings attached to it at the sides and back.

“What are the rings for?”

“Well…” Zach gestures back to the box, and Chris looks again. There’s something else in there –  _two_  something elses. They look like long socks. Zach picks them up and says, “Gloves.”

Not just gloves. They look long enough to cover Chris’s whole arms, up over his biceps. And they each lace up the whole way from wrists to armpits. There are rings on the gloves as well, at the wrists. But they’re not really gloves, Chris realizes; they end in sculpted mitts rather than separate fingers, and there doesn’t look like there would be much room to flex his fingers in there.

“Oh. These are like…and you hook them up to…so this is a bondage thing?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Zach replies quickly. “I just thought…I mean, you don’t have to add the gloves or anything, it was just, when I went to get it, they’d already made them as a gift, and I didn’t feel like I could say no or anything.”

Zach didn’t have to put them in the box, but Chris doesn’t point that out. He pulls one of them onto his hand experimentally. It’s snug, but cozy.

“What if I get all claustrophobic?”

“Then I’ll take them off you right away.”

Neither of them point out the obvious. These garments are not for wearing on-set. These are definitely for wearing in private.

Chris asks slowly, “What did you mean before, you’re not doing me a favor? I mean…what are you getting out of this?” He pulls off the glove and puts it down on the bed again.

Zach gives a long, lazy shrug. “You look good, is all. I like looking at you.”

“So I put these on and you – what? Look at me?”

“I guess.”

Chris decides to take a leap. “I’ll wear them. All of this stuff. As long as you tell me what you want after I’ve put them on.”

“I hadn’t really thought that far.”

“Have you done this before?”

“No.” It’s a quick response, but it has a ring of truth to it. Zach adds, “I’ve seen it done. I liked it. And I always thought you’d look good like that.”

 _Flattery will get you everywhere._  “Okay. So I put these on and...”

Zach swallows. “And. Uh. I could sit on the sofa and you could sit nearby. Or something.”

“And?”

“I’d just watch. Just look at you. Don’t wanna weird you out again.”

Chris strips off his shirt, balls it up and throws it at Zach’s face with a wide smile. “You’re not gonna weird me out, Quinto. Hey, lace me in, wouldja?”

Zach’s eyes reappear, narrowed and slightly dangerous, as he pulls the shirt off his face. “Sure. I’ll lace you in.”

Chris feels his grin falter. Probably not a great idea to antagonize the man who’s about to constrict his inner organs. “Not too tight, right?”

“Why? Have you been chowing down at craft service now that you have an instant tummy-tucker?”

Chris decides to let it go. He figures they’re even now, after their contretemps this afternoon. “Come on,” he says easily. “Tie me in.”

“Jeans, too. I don’t think it’ll sit right if you still have them on.”

He’s probably right, although Chris finds himself wishing he hadn’t worn his Superman underwear today. He’s a few days overdue for laundry and they were all he had left, apart from the novelty ones Beau gave him one Valentine’s Day, covered in bright red lipstick kisses. On second thought, Superman was probably the better choice for this scenario.

But he kicks off his shoes and socks and strips down. If Zach wants to ‘just look’, he might as well have something to look at. To his credit, Zach actually tries to hide his smile at the red and blue briefs.

Zach helps him into the leather corset, and Chris tries not to think about Warrior Princesses. When he sees himself in the mirror, though, he gets caught up in looking at himself. He’s fucking hot, even if he does say so himself. Zach certainly seems to agree, his denim-clad cock firmly wedged against the seat of Chris’s briefs. He pulls back to yank at the laces, and the vibrations go right through Chris’s ribs, down his spine and pulse through his balls. His cock jumps.

Once he's tied off the laces, Zach runs his gaze over Chris’s reflection in the mirror and gives a soft, shaky sigh. Chris catches his eye and holds it as he palms his own dick, hard underneath the thin cotton; smirks cheekily. “Just looking, right?”

“Just looking, Kal-El.”

“Sure?” He rubs his cock gently, rolling it around under his hand, and raises an eyebrow.

“I think…”

“Yeah?”

“I think we’d better get your hands tied before you start jacking off.”

Chris pouts. “That’s kind of the point, man. Of this whole deal? Right?”

But Zach turns away and fetches the gloves. “Just looking, for now.” He holds the left glove open and Chris huffs, but slides his hand in. Zach laces it up and Chris has to admit – it feels  _great_. All snug and safe and protected. When he was a kid, he used to ask his mother to tuck him in as tight as she could, so that he was splayed under the sheets and couldn’t move. It was a foolproof method for avoiding nightmares.

The other arm is next, and then Zach looks and him and Chris looks back. “Do you want me to…” Zach gestures.

“Hell, yes.”

Zach turns him around again and positions his wrists behind his back. Two small metallic clicks, and Chris is bound; the gloves attached to the rings on the back of the corset.

“Whoa. That’s – this is –” He doesn’t have the words, and he’s feeling lightheaded. “I need to sit down. Or lie down.”

“Do you want me to take them off?”

“No! No. It feels good. But I need to not be standing right now.” His legs are shaky, and he’s grateful when Zach helps him to the bed.

“On your stomach? I don’t know if you can lie on your back like that with—”

  
“Stomach. And less talk.” He doesn’t mean to sound snappy, but the worried edge to Zach’s tone is harshing his buzz, man, and he wants this feeling to get bigger, more intense, not fade away. Zach arranges him until Chris grunts that he’s fine, the pillow squished up under half his face so that he’s not nose-first into the mattress. Chris brings a leg up so he’s not lying on his dick, hard and throbbing, and relaxes into it. He has no idea how long he’s lying there, breathing regularly and feeling compressed in the most wonderful way, but when he opens his eyes again, Zach is in the chair opposite the bed, staring at him, legs spread wide.

“You hard?” Chris asks, and Zach nods. “Do it.” His voice sounds slurred to his own ears, but Zach unzips his fly, lifts his hips obediently, and pulls down his jeans and underwear to get a grip on his dick.

Chris has thought a lot about how Zach might jerk off; whether he likes it smooth with lots of lube, teasing the head, making it last for himself. But Zach just spits in his hand and goes at it like his life depends on it. No messing around. No finesse.

Chris can feel himself leaking into his Superman briefs as he watches, and when Zach shoots a minute later, seriously shoots halfway across the room like he’s aiming at Chris, he can’t stop himself from humping the bed. Zach’s harsh breathing slows as his own picks up, but there’s not enough friction, and the corset is starting to make him breathless.

He pants, “Zach,” once, before Zach walks unsteadily over to him, fly still hanging open and his cock limp but still thick, and lies behind him on the bed. His hand, rummaging into Chris’s briefs, is far more gentle than it was a few seconds ago. His fingers are still wet with his own jizz and he strokes tenderly until Chris bucks into his fist, begging for it.

He’s definitely going to need to do laundry, Chris thinks just before he comes, soaking his underwear and Zach’s comforter too. Afterwards, Zach leaves his fingers loosely ringed around his softening cock, and it’s a nice echo of the tight feeling in his arms and torso.

“You’d better get cleaned up,” Zach says eventually.

“Man, you are not seriously kicking me out. Dick move.  _Total_  dick move.”

Zach snorts. “No, I meant – you should take this off. You can stay. Sleep over, whatever. But you can’t sleep in this. And also, I think you spooged on it, so I need to wipe it down.”

Chris sighs, but passively lets Zach unclip the gloves, untie and remove them; unlace the corset and wrestle it off over his head. He even rolls Chris’s soiled underwear off for him and helps him under the blanket, naked.

“Tuck me in,” Chris says, folding his hands behind his head under the pillow. Zach is walking towards the en suite.

“Tuck yourself in, Your Majesty. I’m cleaning up your goddamn semen for you, that’s enough. Ick, you got it everywhere. Ugh!” Zach hops back and wipes his foot frantically on the carpet. “I stepped in some!”

“I think you’ll find that’s yours,” Chris tells him smugly, and promptly falls asleep.

~

The next morning is strangely comfortable. Zach teases him about snoring, but Chris is blissfully unconcerned. He feels well-rested, despite the stupid-early call time on set, and although he and Zach drive in separate cars, they follow each other and smirk at each other on arrival. And for the next week things go back to normal – or what’s passed for normal of late. Corset on in the morning and off at night. Zach even brushes Chris’s cock over his underwear (plain blue briefs) one time, but that’s the extent of sexual contact. It keeps Chris on edge from his arrival on set until he leaves, a constant haze of arousal hanging over him and making people give him sidelong looks when they think he’s not looking.

It’s doing  _wonders_  for his Kirk.

And at night, when Zach makes him leave the corset in its original box, in his trailer, Chris drives home thinking about how it felt all day and barely makes it in his door before he heads to the bathroom to urgently rub one out to the memory. If he makes it home fast enough, and if Zach has tied him tightly enough that day, he sometimes still has faint marks on his skin. He likes to look at them in the mirror.

He jacks off again in bed before he sleeps. He likes to take his time during this session, not like the frantic orgasm that has to explode out of him as soon as he gets in the door. This one is slower and sweeter. He wraps himself up in the sheets as tight as a burrito, and with some complicated shuffling and rearranging he can get his hand and his cock free while still feeling the compression. He thinks about the leather corset and binding gloves; imagines it’s Zach’s hand on his dick. Replays the way Zach worked his own cock while staring at him, and the way he shot so hard that Chris half expected a face-full. He really wants an opportunity to watch Zach spurt close-up. Preferably into Chris’s open mouth. That would be good.

And he does it again in the morning, during his shower when it’s still dark outside and he’s still half-asleep, clinging onto dreams that his alarm ripped him out of, invariably of friendly boa constrictors, or being buried in sand up to his neck during a day at the beach, or squeezed slowly between fluffy pillows. He always wakes up hard. He jerks off under the shower stream, not frantic but with no refinement either, fast and perfunctory. He braces himself with one hand against the wall and watches his hand flying, before he shuts his eyes under the water and thinks about Zach.

By Friday morning, his dick is feeling somewhat abused.

 

~

 

When Friday afternoon rolls around, Zach asks where they should get a drink, and it’s totally natural to argue about whether they’re going to a stupid hipster cocktail bar or the much better Irish pub that Chris suggests.

They end up heading to Zach’s place instead, where he has a boutique six pack in the fridge. But the beer remains unopened. After Zach has greeted Noah, and taken him outside and in again, he asks Chris if he'd like a drink. But Chris pushes him up against the bench and kisses him.

They haven’t even kissed yet although they’ve both come in front of each other. They haven’t even kissed yet although Chris has  _stripped_ and let Zach put a  _corset_  on him and  _tied his hands behind his back_. So Chris kisses him now, and it’s good. Noah watches them for a moment before heading back to his dog bed in the lounge.

Zach says something unintelligible while Chris’s tongue is still in his mouth. Chris removes it and asks, “What?”

“I said, I bought you something new.”

“Now you’re just spoiling me.”

Zach’s ears go faintly pink, but he still looks pleased with himself.

Chris starts unbuttoning Zach’s shirt and asks curiously, “Is it a new…”

“It’s an addition to the other.”

“How mysterious.”

“Come and see.”

Chris has his shirt open now and he wants to try running his fingers through all that glorious chest hair. But he wants to see Zach’s addition even more.

“Come and see,” Zach says again, and pulls him by the hand into the bedroom.

He closes the door, for which Chris is grateful. As much as he likes Noah, Chris doesn’t enjoy the thought of an audience, even a canine audience. On the bed is the leather corset, and Chris sucks in a deep breath, fights the urge to run over to it and touch it. The gloves are next to it.

But that’s all. There’s nothing else laid out, no other boxes that Chris can see.

“I thought…maybe you could get dressed before I show you the new thing?” Zach sounds tentative. He moves behind Chris, tucking arms around his waist. It feels natural and it makes Chris happy, so he pulls Zach’s arms tighter.

“Yes, okay. If you want.” He wonders if Zach can feel his rapid heartbeat. “So…I need to undress first.”

“Yes. You do.” And then Zach’s fingers are pulling at the button on his shirt, each tug thrilling through him. Zach peels the shirt slowly off his shoulders, down his arms and pauses for a moment, so that Chris’s hands are all bundled up in the cotton. Chris can feel the breath on the back of his neck, fingers on his hips, slightly below the waistband of his jeans.

“Fuck.” It seems like the thing to say.

“Let’s see how fast we can get these clothes off you,” Zach suggests, and after that it’s a thirty-second frantic struggle until Chris is standing there in his underwear. “No superheroes this time?” Zach asks.

“Zach, come on,” Chris whines. “Lace me up.” He’s missed his customary home-from-work orgasm, and he wants it. He wants his present, too.

“So fucking pushy, Pine.”

“Come  _ooooonnn_.” He’s shifting his weight from foot to foot, uncomfortably aware that it might also be termed dancing on his toes.

Zach gives him this long, slow once-over and licks his lips nervously. “This time – this time you’d better…” He waves his hand, indicating that Chris should strip off his briefs too.

“Oh.”  _Oh._  Chris hesitates for a second. “Um. You’re not going to accidentally castrate me from pulling strings too tight or anything, right?”

Zach’s blank look gives way to a grin, and then giggles. And then so much laughter that he has to grab on to the chair back to stay upright.

Chris folds his arms and waits until the storm of hilarity has passed. “Look, my dick is pretty important to me, so I just wanna know what I’m getting into,” he says, annoyed.

Zach tries to keep his face straight. “Your dick is pretty important to me, too, Chris. So don’t worry. I’m not going to do anything to endanger your genitals.”

“Well. Okay.” Chris is not entirely sure about this, but the fact that his penis is of some consequence to Zach is making him feel warm inside. “But remember if I freak out, you have to take it all off.”

“I’ll listen out for your manly shrieks. Now come on. Lose the drawers.”

“You’re a real asshole sometimes, you know that?” But he strips them off, and even resists the urge to flick them into Zach’s smirking face. At least it distracts him from the fact that he’s naked, his cock filling out, heavy over his balls. Zach looks him over again, and Chris clears his throat. “I don't know, man, it doesn’t seem fair, you all warm and non-naked, and me all chilly and undressed.”

“You don’t seem  _that_  chilly,” Zach says, with a pointed look at his crotch. And dammit, Chris’s cock gives a little jerk under his gaze and starts to rise up. Zach gives a delighted grin.

Chris spreads his hands in supplication. “Dude. Come on. You like to watch me all tied up, and that’s cool. I…like to watch too. I'd like to look at you.”

Zach drags his eyes up from Chris’s dick. “Okay. That seems fair.”

Zach undresses with the kind of grace that Chris should be reserved for highly experienced erotic dancers, but it’s not like it’s a  _bad_  thing. His cock agrees, evidently, springing up to full mast. Zach is slim and lithe and has a gorgeous mass of curls trailing up his thighs, nicely manscaped around his balls and cock. Chris approves. Chris also wants to rub his face into all that downy hair, and taste Zach’s cock, hard as his own and blushing a lovely deep red.

His staring hasn’t escaped Zach’s notice, and Chris flutters his fingers over his own dick as Zach smiles. “Better get you trussed, Pine,” he says, a husky note in his voice.

The leather corset is different to the every-day one. It provokes a different mood, makes Chris feel not just happy, not just confined, but…something. Something he finds hard to articulate, even in his own mind. He feels a little foggy while Zach ties him up. When Zach turns him around to check the front, they're so close that their cocks slap into each other. They both gasp.

“Sorry,” Zach says, but it’s just automatic. Chris can tell by the size of his eyes, wide and intense, that he’s totally into it. Maybe it wasn’t an accident. He twists his hips and collides with Zach’s dick again. It’s something primal, the feeling it provokes.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says, and then pulls Zach in to kiss him. Zach molds into his body, hands roughly grabbing at Chris’s ass.

“Very sorry,” Zach says, his nose in Chris’s ear, just before his teeth close on the lobe. Chris starts panting. It makes the corset seem even tighter. But then Zach thrusts him away firmly by the shoulders, his face a mix of pleasure and regret. “ _Very_  sorry, but it’s time for the gloves.”

Chris sucks his bottom lip, still wet from Zach’s tongue, while Zach pulls the gloves taught by their strings. It feels tighter than last time, but not unpleasant. “Tell me if your fingers tingle or anything,” Zach says.

“Yeah, yeah. I got it. Hey – aren’t you going to clip my wrists?”

Zach, who has been circling him, stops and shakes his head. “Time for your present.”

Chris claps his mitten-hands. “Yay!”

“Don’t…do that,” Zach asks, with a grimace. “That’s not sexy. You look like a seal.”

“I’m always sexy.” Chris plants his hands on his hips and strikes his best Kirk pose, ignoring Zach’s snort.

But then Zach is close to him again, his face so close that Chris could count the number of hairs growing back to his Spockified eyebrows. “Well, actually, you’re not entirely wrong,” he says, and kisses him again. He breaks away to ask, “Can I—”

“Do whatever, just do  _something_.”

Zach’s hand on his cock is still a surprise, but a good one. A  _great_  one. Zach is so close that Chris can feel his body heat. And then Chris feels Zach’s dick rubbing up against his own as well, Zach’s hand wrapped around them both, warm and strong, squeezing as he massages them together.

Chris says something, and his lips move but no sound escapes his throat. This close up, he can see the creamy texture of Zach’s skin, the translucent blue of the vein showing faintly through at his temple. His eyes aren’t just brown; they have at least five different colors making up the irises. Zach is staring straight back into Chris’s eyes.

Zach lets their dicks drop and Chris’s lips part in protest. Before he can speak, Zach asks, “Do you want your present?”

“Yes, but I also want you to keep doing that.” It earns him fingers around the head of his cock, and a quick slide over his slit, the pad of Zach’s thumb massaging circles.

“You like that?” he asks, and Chris nods, tries to grab at his hips and pull him closer, but his mitted hands are useless, won’t let his fingers bend or grasp. “That’s enough, Christopher. For someone who likes being tied up, you have a hard time keeping your hands to yourself.”

“ _Hrngh_ ,” says Chris, when what he really meant to say was something witty and devastating and flirty.

“My thoughts exactly.” Zach leaves Chris standing in the middle of the room, and kneels to draw out a box from under the bed. If he could, Chris would be clenching his fists in excitement. “You know what was hot last time?” Zach asks, putting the box on the bed. He trails his fingers over the lid, and then looks up again. “The way you were so desperate for it you were just about fucking the bed. And you were so frustrated you had to ask for help. I want to see something like that again, watch you go crazy trying to get off. Until you’re begging for some help, and maybe if I’m feeling generous, I…Does that sound good to you?”

 _Why, yes, Zachary, that sounds quite delightful. Pray, let us continue._  “Uh huh.”

Zach takes off the lid, and Chris lifts up a little on his toes to get a good look. It’s something black. Leather, with a lot of D-rings and lacings. Christ, Zach must be laying out some significant cash for this whole endeavor. Chris feels a rush of affection, and gives Zach what feels like a lopsided grin.

“What is it?” he asks. “Show me. Please.”

He watches as Zach slowly takes the garment out of the box, a few faint sounds of clinking metal, and the scent of the leather, rich and musky, wafts around the room. The rest of the world suddenly seems very small, as though this moment in time is the only thing that exists, and everything else is just a dream or a mirage. Reality consists of constriction in his ribs and stomach, immobilized fingers, leather and metal.

And Zach.

“Do you know what it is?” Zach asks, holding it up.

It’s a long, tapering garment with a belt at the top and at the bottom – “ _Feet?_  Ohh. It’s for my  _legs_.” Chris reaches out his arm, forgetting again about the gloves that prevent him from touching. “It’s beautiful.” There is a zip down the middle, and evenly-spaced rings threaded with one lace running the entire length.

Zach brings it closer and holds it up to Chris’s face. “Feel it.” Chris closes his eyes and rubs his cheek into it like a cat, makes an approving noise at the back of his throat.

Zach kisses him, brushing lightly across his nose, and Chris compares the textures: leather and lips, supple and soft.

“So I want to get this on you,” Zach murmurs.

“Fuck, yes.”

“You’d like to try?”

“ _Yes._ ”

Zach pulls out the laces altogether from the front, and then lays it out on the bed, flattening it except for the pouch at the feet. He helps Chris clamber on top and shuffle into it. He begins to pull up the long, long zip, over Chris’s feet and knees, thighs. He stops to stroke a finger up the underside of Chris’s cock. “Have to be extra careful of this,” he says seriously, arranging the attached flap of soft material over his crotch before zipping over it. “I know your dick is very important to you.” Chris makes a face, although it disappears when Zach yanks at the belt of the garment, pulling it firmly closed over his hips.

Finally, he starts to pull the laces tight, and the leather encases Chris perfectly, forming over his body in a way that feels magical and right and really, really sexy.

“You look…” Zach says, once he’s finished. Chris experimentally tries to move, but the laces, both front and back, make it almost impossible to bend his knees. He can wriggle his feet a little, but that small movement makes him feel all the more bound and helpless.

“ _Gah._ ”

“Good?”

Chris nods. His voice seems to have given up the fight, migrated off somewhere where it’ll be more appreciated. The thought makes him chuckle, but he stops when he sees that Zach is stroking at his cock gently.

But they’re not quite ready yet. Chris flails his arms around to make his point, and Zach bends over him, his knee on the bed dipping the mattress and making Chris slide to the side a little.

“Don’t worry. I would’ve remembered.” This time, Zach clips the gloves so that Chris’s arms are straight down his sides, joined to the belt of the leg binder. After they’re secure, and he’s moved Chris back into the middle of the bed again, he kneels over him, knees tucked just below Chris’s gloved fingers. “You look so  _hot_ like this. Fuck. Wish I had a camera.”

“So does Perez.” Oh. His voice is back.

Zach laughs. He’s touching himself again, much more gently and slowly than last time. “So listen, I want to run something by you. I think I’m gonna have to blow on your face,” Zach says, conversational. “Because I don’t want to risk staining the leather. That okay?”

 _Okay?_   _Jesus._  “Ow.”

“What?”

“My dick. It got harder and…you tied those laces really damn tight, man.”

“We should do something about that,” Zach agrees. “Besides, I want to watch you when you start dripping.”

Chris bucks instinctively at the words, or tries to, and ends up making the cock situation worse. But Zach is unzipping the leg binder under the laces, keeping the tension. He eases the zip down and then pulls aside the comfort flap until Chris feels his dick jump free. “You have a really nice cock, Chris. Nice and thick.” Zach is far down enough that he can bend forward and kiss it, and the touch of those lips on his sensitive, aching dick is torturous.

“Either suck it or leave it alone, Quinto,” Chris gasps. “It’s had a rough week.”

“Poor baby.” Is Zach actually talking to his…? “Has Christopher been abusing you? He’s a very naughty boy. Don’t worry, I’ll kiss it all better.”

The baby-talk is maddening, but Zach is placing butterfly kisses up and down the length of his cock, and the gentle pressure is blissful. Chris feels his muscles relaxing again, and if his legs weren’t bound tightly together, he’d be shifting them open.

“You like that?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to suck?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“No.” He sits back up and gives Chris a long up-and-down stare, a smile tugging at his lips as Chris’s cock jumps under his gaze.

“Please?” Chris tries.

“No. You need to learn some  _restraint_.” He grins at his own bad pun. “It’s not like you won’t enjoy your lesson, though. Right?”

Chris mumbles agreement. He’s busy staring at Zach’s fingers teasing over his own cock, smearing precum over the head of it like he’s finger-painting. “You could do that to me,” he suggests hopefully, but Zach just leans in to kiss him instead, sucking on his lower lip.

“Restraint,” Zach says again, all muffled, but Chris gets the message. He relaxes, somehow, lets himself focus on the restriction of all that leather, parceled up like a human-sized gift just for Zach. The thought makes him smile, and Zach pulls back to look at his mouth. He’s breathing heavily now, and Chris realizes he’s been jacking himself all through the kissing.

“What?” Zach asks.

“I’m a gift.”

“You  _think_  you’re God’s gift, yeah.”

“No, no.” He laughs, buzzed. The right words are not quite coming to him, but he tries again. “ _Your_  gift. All packaged and ready to open up.”

Zach’s eyes go bright and hard. “You want me to open you up?”

Chris gives a nervous chuckle, wondering if Zach means what he thinks, and yeah, of course he does. Of course he does. “I, um.” His mouth has gone dry, tongue turned to unwieldy cotton wool. “If you, I don’t know. Is that…”

But Zach kisses him again instead of waiting for Chris to spit out any kind of coherent response. It’s a good thing, since Chris isn’t sure what he might have said. Zach binding him, immobilizing him, jerking off in front of him and then jerking  _Chris_  off – that’s all been fine. The idea of actually letting Zach all up in his butt, that’s – that’s a different thing entirely. They’re friends, after all. Friends with perquisites on the side, perhaps, but assfucking, it seems to Chris, might make things…

He shoves the thought out of his mind, though, because Zach is sucking at his neck now, and it’s a little-known fact that Chris Pine’s neck is one of his most erogenous zones. Zach seems to figure it out pretty quickly, though, from the way Chris writhes around underneath him, moaning like he’s in some cheap porno. Zach is getting off on it just as much as Chris, judging by his panting breath and the way he forsakes his own cock for Chris’s. It’s not enough, though, the way he’s just rubbing back and forth across it gently, eyes roaming all over Chris and his restraints.

“If you’re not going to suck it, could you at least give me a little more friction?” Chris growls at last, tired of the teasing.

“Judging by the color of this thing, I think friction is the  _last_  thing it needs.”

Okay. Chris can play this game. “Don’t you want to watch me? You didn’t get a chance last time to actually see it happen. I know you’d like to see it, because watching you was the hottest thing I’ve seen for a long time, Zach. And anyway, isn’t that what you said you wanted from the start, to watch?”

Zach smiles, hard-edged and all teeth. “I like to  _look_ ,” he corrects. “Looking at you, all tied up like this, that’s what I like.”

Fucking semantics. Literally. “And shooting on my face, apparently? That’s what you said before.”

“I think I’ll like that, yes. We’re going to find out about that. Pretty soon, I’d say.”

All the air rushes out of Chris’s lungs at Zach’s casual tone combined with one hard squeeze on his cock.

“What about me?” Chris asks, his voice strangled.

“You get to be tied up. Isn’t that enough?”

There are two options: yowl in protest, or… “If you think so, Zach,” Chris says, looking up from under his lashes and feeling  _ridiculous_. But it works. Oh, how it works. Zach’s hand slaps back around his own cock again, and he jacks it hard, as hard as he did last time, bares his teeth in a grimace. Chris can see the moment he hits his climax written all over his face, and then it’s written all over Chris’s as well as Zach aims and shoots.

It’s fucking glorious; hot wet mess all over his face and Zach gasping for breath, falling over him braced on one arm. Chris opens his eyes gingerly, looks straight into Zach’s.

“That was—” he starts.

“Quiet.” Zach’s eyes are still hard and bright as he leans closer and starts licking his cum off Chris’s face. It’s strange for a few seconds and then Chris finds himself arching into it, turning his face to give Zach access, like a pleased kitten being carefully groomed.

After he’s clean, Zach kisses him, tasting alkaline.

“You want me to undo you now?” Zach asks, and then laughs at Chris’s expression. “Kidding. Just wanted to see the kind of face you’d pull.”

“You’re mean, sometimes.”

Zach is nestling into him, his soft, tepid cock pushing against Chris’s balls. “I think you’re mean to yourself. You practically rubbed this poor thing raw.” He has a hand squeezed in between them, somehow, awkwardly petting Chris’s aching dick. It’s hot and hard and leaking, a complete contrast to Zach’s satisfied cock.

“Please,” Chris says between his teeth. “Please would you…”

Finally Zach takes pity on him, and slides back down the bed. “It literally looks enflamed,” he announces, weighing Chris’s cock in his palm. “I would feel guilty giving you a hand job.” Chris is about to explode with threats and pleas when Zach continues, “Beej it is,” and sucks him down.

His tongue curls around the head, pushes into his slit in an unrelenting movement that makes Chris start thrashing around like a fish on dry land. He’s jacked off innumerable times since they met to a fantasy of Zach going down on him, but it’s nothing like he pictured. He thought Zach would be all business-like and determined, but his technique is teasing, flirty. Usually Chris likes a lot of pressure, firm strokes, but it’s when Zach’s tongue flicks repeatedly under the head, groaning around the mouthful so hard that the vibrations hit Chris’s balls – that’s when Chris comes. Zach is drawing noises out of him that Chris is embarrassed about later, stuff that sounds like he’s having a religious conversion, and then a garbled marriage proposal that Chris will deny to his dying day.

It takes a while for both of them to catch their breath.

“I just came in your mouth, dude,” Chris says after a while.

“Yup.”

“This is all cool, right? I mean…what we’re doing?”

“I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it.”

“I think my fingers are falling asleep.”

Zach begins the long process of untying him. Gloves first, after which he massages Chris’s tingling fingers, and then sucks on them until Chris groans, his dick twitching. Zach rolls him over on to his stomach. “Let me loosen your stays,” he says, and Chris can hear the grin in his voice. But he’s too blissed-out to respond.

The corset releases itself, the slack growing each time Chris takes a deep breath. Zach pulls out the strings completely, slides the garment out from under Chris, and then traces the marks it’s left on his skin. “Beautiful. It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“So’s your ass.”

“Um. Thank you?”

“Can I…would you let me fuck you?”

Chris curls his fingers under the pillow. “But I’m all tied up. Still.”

“There’s a flap. Like for your dick.”

“I won’t be able to open my legs.”

“I know,” Zach breathes. “Um, but it’s cool if you don’t want to.”

Chris feels his cock give another valiant twitch beneath him, pressed into the mattress. “You’re up for another round already? That’s some impressive refractory period, man.”

“Christopher, if you too were faced with the possibility of fucking an ass like this, you’d understand.” He gives Chris’s leather-clad butt a little pat. “But like I said, if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I guess we’re moving pretty fast.”

They are, in one sense.  But in another... “I don’t mind,” Chris blurts. “Because actually, it’s not fast at all, it’s slow as molasses. The very first time I met you, I wanted you, and now it’s like four years later and we’re finally getting our act together.”

“With corsetry. Don’t forget the corsetry.”

“You would never let me.”

He feels Zach's fingers running over his ass again.  “You sure about this?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you ever…”

Chris rolls his eyes. “Yes, Zach. It may stun you to realize, but I am not a quivering ass-virgin.”

“Wow. You’re really determined to skip over the whole romance of this moment.” But Zach chuckles.

Chris can feel Zach’s fingers tugging at things and then his ass feels cooler, and he figures it must be bared. He clenches the muscles in surprise at a soft, damp kiss on one cheek, and Zach laughs.

“Jumpy.” Two warm palms cover his asscheeks, squeezing lightly. “You know…”

“What?” Chris Junior is definitely wanting in on the action now, growing thicker and filling out, and his balls are getting heavier too, but Chris is worried that if they stop for any grand soliloquies he might flag again.

“The whole tied-up thing, if that was just…I mean, you don’t have to. I could take the leg-binder off if you prefer.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay. Just checking.”

“Just get  _on_  with it.”

Zach yanks the pillows from under Chris’s face, ignoring his protests, and stuffs them underneath his hips. His butt is raised up now, and Chris thinks that in other circumstances it would feel silly, but knowing that ass is about to get plowed tips it into hot territory. Definitely.

“I feel like a merman,” he says, wriggling a little. Zach gives a little growl and mounts him, legs on either side of Chris’s, fingers digging into flesh.

Zach takes some time to play with his butt, for which Chris is very grateful. It’s been a while since anything’s been up there, despite what he said before; usually when he goes with guys, Chris tops. But part of the thing he loves about all this corsetry and binding is that it’s an outward sign of giving up control to someone else. To  _Zach_. Who is pushing a resolute finger inside him, and letting out a stream of dirty talk that is making Chris Junior stand at attention like a goddamn Marine.

Zach has to hold his cheeks open with one hand so he can see what he’s doing with the other, and it’s so hot, the idea that this is more difficult than usual. Zach’s determination is radiating out from him, even though Chris can’t see him unless he twists his upper body back at an uncomfortable angle.

Two fingers, and Chris can practically feel every ridge on Zach’s fingerprints, he’s so tight around them. “Fuck, that’s good,” he mumbles into his arms. Three, and he’s biting at his own bicep.

“Do you need much more? Because I’d really like to—”

“Yes. I mean, no. No, I don’t need more and yes I want your cock in my ass  _right now_  so please get the fuck on with it.”

“I should have known,” Zach says, and Chris can hear him ripping open a condom.

“Known what?”

A slather of more lube, cool but not unpleasant, and Zach says, “Chris Pine: Ultimate Bossy Bottom.”

“Just  _get in me_  already, stop –  _unh!_ ”

“ _Fuck._  This is –  _tight_.”

He’s  _really_  tight. And feels really full, but good. So good, so tight, and Zach’s legs over his instead of between makes Chris think of animals fucking, and he chokes out a grunt, adjusting to the stretch in his asshole. He can hear Zach gasping and saying,  _not gonna shoot, not gonna shoot_  like some kind of twisted yoga mantra. Chris tries to relax, tries not to clench his ass hard around Zach’s dick, because he really wants to get fucked. While it would be gratifying to have Zach come as soon as his cock is inside him, that would also be the end of everything and Chris – well. He  _really really_  wants to get fucked.

Zach regains his control, and starts to move. Chris can hear the lube squelching and feel Zach’s fingers grabbing harder and harder at his ass, pulling the cheeks apart. The idea that he’s watching his dick disappear makes Chris buck, wanting some sensation on his own cock, and he grabs out blindly to clutch at the bed sheets.

“That’s good, that’s so good,” Zach is groaning. “Fuck.  _Chris_. You like it?”

“Yeah.  _Yeah_.”

“Can you take it harder?”

 _Zachary, I am quite capable of taking anything you can dish out_  turns into a positive-sounding grunt and Zach starts to really give it to him, slapping in hard and fast, changing the angle after a minute and then again until he’s hitting  _just right_  and Chris is open-mouthed, his tongue soaking the sheet, and all that’s coming out of his mouth are pleading vowels. Zach comes with a steady stream of  _fuck fuck fuck_ s, and pulls out with a long, low, breathy moan that sounds like he’s been unexpectedly punched in the gut.

Chris barely has time to finish thinking  _what about me_  before Zach’s arm worms around his hip, and fingers close on his cock. It’s not gentle. Zach’s grip is hard, really hard, as though he’s going to jerk Chris’s dick right off, but it’s just what Chris needs, and the contrast to the soft pillows cushioning him is perfect. Just before he comes, Zach slips a sly finger back into his asshole and presses into nerve-endings. Chris shoots so hard he thinks the top of his skull might have blown off.

~

“Chris, you are on  _fire_  today,” JJ tells him, an arm slung around his shoulders. “Your Kirk is just getting better and better. Evolving. It’s like I’m watching you physically transform into someone else. Great work, kid.  _Great_  work.”

Chris catches Zach’s eye across the set, and hides a grin. He’s got a lot to thank corsets for.

JJ’s hand slides down his back as he moves away, and Chris sees him frown. Fuck. And JJ’s eyes now, looking more closely at his waist, speculative. “Oh,” JJ says.

“It’s not – I just—”

“I think it’s brilliant,” JJ states firmly. “Captain Kirk by way of Shatner – you know, I didn’t want to encourage too much direct homage in the first film, but we’re standing on our own feet this time round and I think you’re entitled to try new things. If it helps to try the same techniques as the originals—”

“What?  _No_. This is not – this is not—”

“There’s nothing wrong with admitting to it, Chris,” Zach says, suddenly at his side.

“Absolutely not!” JJ is beaming. “Chris, if you want to wear a girdle—”

“A  _girdle_?” Chris’s voice is so high that he’s surprised it can still be heard by human ears. The way JJ sweeps on over him suggests that it can’t, but Zach’s smirk says decidedly otherwise.

“—that’s entirely up to you. If it helps, I love it.” JJ wraps a hand around the back of his neck and sort of shakes him. “You use it, kiddo. You kill it dead and make it work for you any way you need to!”

That doesn’t even make  _sense_. “ _Oh my God_  it’s not a…Shatner never even wore a…”

JJ is already walking back to the camera, calling out directions.

Zach’s smile is pointy and evil. Why hasn’t Chris noticed this about him before? Zachary Quinto is the devil and has completely corrupted him.

But the heated look Zach sends him once they’re all in place and ready for the next take is full of dirty promise. It almost makes up for JJ finding out that Chris is wearing a corset.

 _Almost_.

Lucky Chris is the forgiving type, or his new boyfriend might find himself very lonely tonight.


End file.
